"I don't feel like dancin', no sir, no dancin' today...."
~Scissor Sisters
Great dancing song.
~Scissor Sisters
Great dancing song.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Idealist
Hello. My name is Melissa and I am an idealist.
I believe that people are inherently good.
Something happened earlier this week to test this belief in me. A parent disagreed with the way I disciplined her son (namely, I confiscated his hat for a day because he was wearing it in the school which is against the rules). I can handle disagreement. But this woman was LIVID.
She phoned me on her cell phone and “tore a strip off me” so to speak for at least 10 minutes. She interrupted me every time I tried to calmly explain my perspective. She would yell, “HELLO!!!!!!!!! I don’t think you’re listenin’ to me!” She called me a bully. She explained that her son would likely come down with a head cold (on this 18 degree Celsius, sunny day) and that it would surely be my fault. She did not, after all, purchase that hat with her own money in order for me to take it away. If it is the school’s rules that hats are not to be worn, well, then the rules should be challenged. And this was NOT the first time this has happened. And when I inquired as to the other situation that involved me, she quickly dismissed it as “not the point”! She cut me off at every word I spoke. Her voice rose higher and higher. Then she decided that I was at fault for wasting her time and money because she was calling me on her cell phone. She demanded I give the hat back immediately despite the students having already been dismissed and her son was long gone for the day. I assured her that I would be happy to return the hat the next day and asked her to have a nice evening. She warned me that this issue was “going higher” and this would not be the end.
When I hung up, I was upset. I was hurt. An injustice had been done. I, more than anyone, understand the need to protect students from bullies and from unfairness and from any other harms of the world. I can also see how a parent might want to automatically defend her child. However, who defends me? Was I supposed to breathe a sigh of relief if she doesn’t phone the superintendent to file a complaint? How can it be fair that someone can be so terrible toward someone else and suffer no consequences?
The next day she phoned at lunch, but I asked our secretary to take messages and she wouldn’t leave her name. She phoned again near the end of lunch and left only her first name. The third time she phoned was after school and finally and reluctantly, she left both her first and last name.
I didn’t phone back right away. It’s hard to throw yourself in front of a moving van and it’s hard to put yourself in a position such as that VOLUNTARILY and KNOWINGLY. However, the rules say that I am professionally obligated to return her communication, so I braced myself this morning, sat down in my principal’s office and phoned the number she’d left.
To my astonishment, the woman began to cry. She said she’d just called to apologize for her behaviour. She said she was going through something. She said she was sorry. I found words falling out of my mouth like, “Consider it forgotten” and “I’m sorry to hear that”. And when I hung up, I sighed in relief.
Most of my friends don’t see the apology equating to balancing out the torment of the prior conversation. ButI have regained my confidence in the good in people. And that will get me through many more hardships.
Hello. My name is Melissa and I am an idealist.
I believe that people are inherently good.
Something happened earlier this week to test this belief in me. A parent disagreed with the way I disciplined her son (namely, I confiscated his hat for a day because he was wearing it in the school which is against the rules). I can handle disagreement. But this woman was LIVID.
She phoned me on her cell phone and “tore a strip off me” so to speak for at least 10 minutes. She interrupted me every time I tried to calmly explain my perspective. She would yell, “HELLO!!!!!!!!! I don’t think you’re listenin’ to me!” She called me a bully. She explained that her son would likely come down with a head cold (on this 18 degree Celsius, sunny day) and that it would surely be my fault. She did not, after all, purchase that hat with her own money in order for me to take it away. If it is the school’s rules that hats are not to be worn, well, then the rules should be challenged. And this was NOT the first time this has happened. And when I inquired as to the other situation that involved me, she quickly dismissed it as “not the point”! She cut me off at every word I spoke. Her voice rose higher and higher. Then she decided that I was at fault for wasting her time and money because she was calling me on her cell phone. She demanded I give the hat back immediately despite the students having already been dismissed and her son was long gone for the day. I assured her that I would be happy to return the hat the next day and asked her to have a nice evening. She warned me that this issue was “going higher” and this would not be the end.
When I hung up, I was upset. I was hurt. An injustice had been done. I, more than anyone, understand the need to protect students from bullies and from unfairness and from any other harms of the world. I can also see how a parent might want to automatically defend her child. However, who defends me? Was I supposed to breathe a sigh of relief if she doesn’t phone the superintendent to file a complaint? How can it be fair that someone can be so terrible toward someone else and suffer no consequences?
The next day she phoned at lunch, but I asked our secretary to take messages and she wouldn’t leave her name. She phoned again near the end of lunch and left only her first name. The third time she phoned was after school and finally and reluctantly, she left both her first and last name.
I didn’t phone back right away. It’s hard to throw yourself in front of a moving van and it’s hard to put yourself in a position such as that VOLUNTARILY and KNOWINGLY. However, the rules say that I am professionally obligated to return her communication, so I braced myself this morning, sat down in my principal’s office and phoned the number she’d left.
To my astonishment, the woman began to cry. She said she’d just called to apologize for her behaviour. She said she was going through something. She said she was sorry. I found words falling out of my mouth like, “Consider it forgotten” and “I’m sorry to hear that”. And when I hung up, I sighed in relief.
Most of my friends don’t see the apology equating to balancing out the torment of the prior conversation. ButI have regained my confidence in the good in people. And that will get me through many more hardships.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Post-Race Delusional State Decisions
In my post-race delusional state, I logged on to the Mississauga Marathon website.
I don't feel completely sure I can run a full marathon. In fact, I'm about 35% sure I can finish. However, I don't feel like it will be easier a year from now or the year after that.
So I registered.
ARGH.
In my post-race delusional state, I logged on to the Mississauga Marathon website.
I don't feel completely sure I can run a full marathon. In fact, I'm about 35% sure I can finish. However, I don't feel like it will be easier a year from now or the year after that.
So I registered.
ARGH.
Conquered!
One more notch on my belt. A seventh race bib for my fridge. Don’t mind if I strut a bit after this one.
This weekend I conquered the feared Around the Bay 30k road race. And I did it in 3 hours and 21 minutes. The fact that I would finish at all was, at times, dubious. It is a hard race. There are hills in the last 10 kilometres and it’s stinky when you run past the Hamilton Water Treatment Facility. We had to run across a bridge made of mesh steel. I didn’t love that part. And there’s a mammoth hill at kilometre 25, just as everyone warned me, with ambulances parked at the bottom and at the top. I assessed, at that moment, the speed at which I was running versus my walking pace and made the decision to walk that hill. Thankfully, I did not require either ambulance.
The best part of the race was having the wonderful surprise of seeing two friends from work at kilometre 18….then again at about 20…..and a third time at 24 (when things got very dismal indeed). They said they thought I looked good, but what they don’t realize is just how much seeing a friend on a race course lifts your spirits. It made a world of difference. I might have yelled, “I’m going to finish now JUST FOR YOU!”
The last six kilometres were very, very difficult. But I had carefully written a quote on each of my forearms, and although I didn’t roll up my sleeves, I repeated them to myself when things got bad and I had to really “dig deep”.
My left arm said, “If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep going.”
My right arm said, “Difficult things take a long time; impossible things, a little longer.”
One more notch on my belt. A seventh race bib for my fridge. Don’t mind if I strut a bit after this one.
This weekend I conquered the feared Around the Bay 30k road race. And I did it in 3 hours and 21 minutes. The fact that I would finish at all was, at times, dubious. It is a hard race. There are hills in the last 10 kilometres and it’s stinky when you run past the Hamilton Water Treatment Facility. We had to run across a bridge made of mesh steel. I didn’t love that part. And there’s a mammoth hill at kilometre 25, just as everyone warned me, with ambulances parked at the bottom and at the top. I assessed, at that moment, the speed at which I was running versus my walking pace and made the decision to walk that hill. Thankfully, I did not require either ambulance.
The best part of the race was having the wonderful surprise of seeing two friends from work at kilometre 18….then again at about 20…..and a third time at 24 (when things got very dismal indeed). They said they thought I looked good, but what they don’t realize is just how much seeing a friend on a race course lifts your spirits. It made a world of difference. I might have yelled, “I’m going to finish now JUST FOR YOU!”
The last six kilometres were very, very difficult. But I had carefully written a quote on each of my forearms, and although I didn’t roll up my sleeves, I repeated them to myself when things got bad and I had to really “dig deep”.
My left arm said, “If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep going.”
My right arm said, “Difficult things take a long time; impossible things, a little longer.”
Friday, March 23, 2007
A Lovely Problem to Have
Yeats has a problem.
And it’s a lovely problem that most people of the world don’t have. But he is fortunate. He is a teacher who doesn’t know what to do with himself this summer. So I have compiled a list for him.
Things for Yeats to do during the summer:
1. Bike across Ontario.
2. Write a Pulitzer Prize-Winning Novel.
3. Train and compete in a triathlon.
4. Get a library card and use it.
5. Perfect juggling skills.
6. Get a VIA Rail trans-Canada pass and cross the country, getting off wherever you want to.
7. Visit a friend you haven’t seen in years.
8. Sleep in.
9. Volunteer as a Big Brother.
10. Try all 31 Baskin Robbins ice cream flavours.
Yeats has a problem.
And it’s a lovely problem that most people of the world don’t have. But he is fortunate. He is a teacher who doesn’t know what to do with himself this summer. So I have compiled a list for him.
Things for Yeats to do during the summer:
1. Bike across Ontario.
2. Write a Pulitzer Prize-Winning Novel.
3. Train and compete in a triathlon.
4. Get a library card and use it.
5. Perfect juggling skills.
6. Get a VIA Rail trans-Canada pass and cross the country, getting off wherever you want to.
7. Visit a friend you haven’t seen in years.
8. Sleep in.
9. Volunteer as a Big Brother.
10. Try all 31 Baskin Robbins ice cream flavours.
J.S.
I’m running in the 113th Annual Around the Bay Road Race in Hamilton this weekend. So I went today to pick up my race kit at the Running Expo. And who should I see there but John Stanton! THE John Stanton. I actually turned to Delia and said, “Oh my god, it’s John Stanton.” For those of you who aren’t in the know, John Stanton is the man who started the chain of Running Room Stores. He’s written books and essentially started a revolution that made the dream of running distances attainable by mere mortals like myself. He is the creator of the 10 and 1 philosophy. And it took me about an hour, but I finally worked up the nerve to speak to him.
He had a bunch of pace bands laid out in front of him on a table. He asked me if I was running in the race and I said I was running the 30k. And he asked when I hoped to finish and I smiled and pointed at the “Upright and Smiling” paceband. He grinned. I said that my aspiration is to use this as a gauge to determine whether I am capable of doing the Mississauga Marathon in May. And I know he was trying to build my confidence when he said, “Anyone who can do the Around the Bay can do a marathon,” but he scared the shit out of me. He explained the race is relatively easy and flat in the first half and then for the second half, it’s rolling hill after rolling him with a bruiser at kilometre 25 (I’ve heard the legends about that one).
So now I’m realizing that this is a turning point for me. Not only is it a longer distance than I’ve run before, but it’s a distance I have never done before. I’m beginning to run races where most folks don’t run the full distance when training beforehand. That’s far.
A 5k race is probably 100% training. If you train, you will finish. Even if you have a bad sleep and eat a steak dinner fifteen minutes before and develop a freak blister on your Achilles, the likelihood that you can stumble through those five kilometres, if you have trained, is very high. A 10k is 90% training and 10% luck because if you twist your ankle, you might not finish. But even if the conditions are bad (for my first 10k, I drank a diet coke an hour before-hand and was pretty dehydrated during the whole thing), you’ll finish that too. A half marathon is probably 70% training and 30% luck. During all three of my half’s, I’ve developed an achy right knee half-way through and still managed to get my body across the finish line. However, I think that in committing to 30 kilometres, I may have entered 50%/50% territory. And in a funny way, it’s liberating. It’s two days before the race and I don’t feel compelled to squeeze in more training because I think that the rest is in someone else’s hands.
So I’ll get new batteries for my watch. I’ll charge my ipod. I’ll eat pasta, ice my joints and pop Advil. But I’ll also crumple my race bib before pinning it to my shirt.
I’m running in the 113th Annual Around the Bay Road Race in Hamilton this weekend. So I went today to pick up my race kit at the Running Expo. And who should I see there but John Stanton! THE John Stanton. I actually turned to Delia and said, “Oh my god, it’s John Stanton.” For those of you who aren’t in the know, John Stanton is the man who started the chain of Running Room Stores. He’s written books and essentially started a revolution that made the dream of running distances attainable by mere mortals like myself. He is the creator of the 10 and 1 philosophy. And it took me about an hour, but I finally worked up the nerve to speak to him.
He had a bunch of pace bands laid out in front of him on a table. He asked me if I was running in the race and I said I was running the 30k. And he asked when I hoped to finish and I smiled and pointed at the “Upright and Smiling” paceband. He grinned. I said that my aspiration is to use this as a gauge to determine whether I am capable of doing the Mississauga Marathon in May. And I know he was trying to build my confidence when he said, “Anyone who can do the Around the Bay can do a marathon,” but he scared the shit out of me. He explained the race is relatively easy and flat in the first half and then for the second half, it’s rolling hill after rolling him with a bruiser at kilometre 25 (I’ve heard the legends about that one).
So now I’m realizing that this is a turning point for me. Not only is it a longer distance than I’ve run before, but it’s a distance I have never done before. I’m beginning to run races where most folks don’t run the full distance when training beforehand. That’s far.
A 5k race is probably 100% training. If you train, you will finish. Even if you have a bad sleep and eat a steak dinner fifteen minutes before and develop a freak blister on your Achilles, the likelihood that you can stumble through those five kilometres, if you have trained, is very high. A 10k is 90% training and 10% luck because if you twist your ankle, you might not finish. But even if the conditions are bad (for my first 10k, I drank a diet coke an hour before-hand and was pretty dehydrated during the whole thing), you’ll finish that too. A half marathon is probably 70% training and 30% luck. During all three of my half’s, I’ve developed an achy right knee half-way through and still managed to get my body across the finish line. However, I think that in committing to 30 kilometres, I may have entered 50%/50% territory. And in a funny way, it’s liberating. It’s two days before the race and I don’t feel compelled to squeeze in more training because I think that the rest is in someone else’s hands.
So I’ll get new batteries for my watch. I’ll charge my ipod. I’ll eat pasta, ice my joints and pop Advil. But I’ll also crumple my race bib before pinning it to my shirt.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
An Old Friend
There is little in life more comforting than a really old friend.
I don’t mean a friend who’s senile and decrepit, but a friend who’s been your friend since before you discovered who you were. A friend who knew and loved you even when you have wild and crazy dreams, when you were erratic and eccentric and boy-crazy and made poor judgments and dated bad choices and were arrogant and ignorant and naïve and pompous and proud and insecure all at the same time. The kind of friend who can laugh at you and with you, a friend who can finish your sentences and says all the things you need to hear and implies the things you need to hear but don’t want to hear and who inspires you to look at the world differently even though you’ve been looking out at it together for decades. The kind of friend in whose house you always feel at home because you play the dynamic so casually and familiarly and she knows when you’re hungry or that you’ll be too hot unless you leave the window open. Her parents feel like family because they, too, have loved you since before you were you and they hug you ferociously and sometimes your feet come off the ground. The kind of friend that you can sit quietly with or with whom you can share your neuroses and be comforted knowing she has the same ones.
She suspends judgment.
Nothing surprises her.
You feel centered and grounded and calmed and peaceful after being with her because you remember the most important parts of where you came from, the parts that carved you out and eroded at the edges of your being, the pains and joys and lessons that sculpted your person. You see yourself clearer through the eyes of an old friend.
You remember who you are.
There is little in life more comforting than a really old friend.
I don’t mean a friend who’s senile and decrepit, but a friend who’s been your friend since before you discovered who you were. A friend who knew and loved you even when you have wild and crazy dreams, when you were erratic and eccentric and boy-crazy and made poor judgments and dated bad choices and were arrogant and ignorant and naïve and pompous and proud and insecure all at the same time. The kind of friend who can laugh at you and with you, a friend who can finish your sentences and says all the things you need to hear and implies the things you need to hear but don’t want to hear and who inspires you to look at the world differently even though you’ve been looking out at it together for decades. The kind of friend in whose house you always feel at home because you play the dynamic so casually and familiarly and she knows when you’re hungry or that you’ll be too hot unless you leave the window open. Her parents feel like family because they, too, have loved you since before you were you and they hug you ferociously and sometimes your feet come off the ground. The kind of friend that you can sit quietly with or with whom you can share your neuroses and be comforted knowing she has the same ones.
She suspends judgment.
Nothing surprises her.
You feel centered and grounded and calmed and peaceful after being with her because you remember the most important parts of where you came from, the parts that carved you out and eroded at the edges of your being, the pains and joys and lessons that sculpted your person. You see yourself clearer through the eyes of an old friend.
You remember who you are.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
“Off” ing the cat
I was visiting a good friend, Hilary, in Goderich this past week. Her mother in law, Carran, was visiting at the time and so, one night, I found myself sitting across the kitchen table from these two and discussing Carran’s newest living arrangements. You see, she’d just recently moved in with her beau, Bob, and was having some difficulty adjusting. And I couldn’t help but notice that a lot of the difficulty seemed to be stemming from a big, puffy-sounding cat. She mentioned how she couldn’t leave her sewing machine out on the table where she got the best light for quilting because the CAT liked to lie there. And she kept saying how there seemed to be no end to the cat fur and dust, no matter how often she cleaned, it was everywhere.
I listened sympathetically and, at some moment, judged we were comfortable enough for me to make a slightly morose joke, so I said, “…sounds like you just need to off the cat”.
There was a pause.
Then a slightly embarrassed look on Carran’s part.
“Actually,” she said, “I did accidentally off the other cat. It got into the dryer when I was doing a load of laundry and I killed it.”
Oops.
I was visiting a good friend, Hilary, in Goderich this past week. Her mother in law, Carran, was visiting at the time and so, one night, I found myself sitting across the kitchen table from these two and discussing Carran’s newest living arrangements. You see, she’d just recently moved in with her beau, Bob, and was having some difficulty adjusting. And I couldn’t help but notice that a lot of the difficulty seemed to be stemming from a big, puffy-sounding cat. She mentioned how she couldn’t leave her sewing machine out on the table where she got the best light for quilting because the CAT liked to lie there. And she kept saying how there seemed to be no end to the cat fur and dust, no matter how often she cleaned, it was everywhere.
I listened sympathetically and, at some moment, judged we were comfortable enough for me to make a slightly morose joke, so I said, “…sounds like you just need to off the cat”.
There was a pause.
Then a slightly embarrassed look on Carran’s part.
“Actually,” she said, “I did accidentally off the other cat. It got into the dryer when I was doing a load of laundry and I killed it.”
Oops.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Not for the faint of heart
The registering-for-the-wedding fiasco has passed its climax. I won’t say it’s done. I’m not so naïve. But I’m feeling significantly lighter and calmer and our relationship has stabilized and, dare I say, grown. We as bride-and-groom-to-be have certainly become wiser. In fact, today, as we were leaving HomeOutfitters on our third excursion out to work on registering, I saw a couple who had been at it for about five minutes. The guy looked a bit like a taller version of Mark, with kind eyes, a kettle in one hand and a flabbergasted look on his face. The girl was holding a scanner and a clipboard and pen and her brow was furrowed and she turned to me (she would have implored to anyone at that moment) and exclaimed, “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do! And we’re not even out of kitchenware.” The tremble in her voice (the I’m-on-the-brink-of-breaking tremble) was oh too familiar and I looked at her and smiled and said, “Don’t try to do it all at once, honey. It gets easier. I promise.”
And I turned on my heel (quite pleased with myself) and strolled away.
So I feel that now is a good time for me to share my new-found wisdom. I want to “give back” so to speak. So here goes.
HOW TO REGISTER FOR YOUR WEDDING:
First of all, start to toss the idea of registering into conversations with your fiancé well well WELL in advance of when you’ll need to have the deed done (before invitations for showers are sent out). That being said, if he doesn’t respond with enthusiasm, but agrees to go along, that’s half the battle. Take what you can get.
Secondly, try to avoid going:
a) after a recent argument
b) on a busy weekend
c) when he is sick
d) when he is wearing a cumbersome and warm leather jacket
e) when he is hung over
f) if he hasn’t had his coffee yet
This should enhance your registering experience.
When you get the scanner, the gift registry attendant will probably give it to him. But his arm might get tired very quickly, so don’t bring a big purse in case you need to carry the scanner and the clipboard etc.
Don’t be alarmed if you can’t agree on anything. I’ve learned that this is part of the process. In fact, planning a wedding is a sick-game invented by some higher being to test the couple to see if they have what it takes to “make it”. I think it’s probably a cross between Survivor and the Truman show.
You will discover some tastes you didn’t know you had (perhaps you suddenly love white). And he will too (he abhors anything white). If you try to do too much at once, you will make emotional purchases. You’ll start scanning things randomly in order to be done. Don’t worry. Nothing is irreversible. You can go on-line later or phone and the friendly, understanding attendant will erase items for you.
You’ll feel torn. You want nice things, but you will feel guilty asking friends to buy you nice things because they are costly. This feels unlike anything you’ve ever done. You’ll find a balance. Use the force.
And you and your fiancé will fight. Oh you will fight. You’ll fight with your fiancé before registering and during registering and perhaps even afterwards while discussing registering. But you will learn how to communicate and how to compromise and how to navigate a wonderful new dimension of your relationship.
And your fiancé may not want to take pictures of the day of registering. He might prefer to get a coffee and lie down on the display beds instead.
Don’t be disheartened. This first visit to the store is not in vain. Your fiancé will likely not have enjoyed himself, but he may suddenly see the potential power in the registry. He will likely start to warm to the idea and discuss things he’d like for next time you go register, making each visit to the store easier than the last.
And remember, that which does not kill you, makes you stronger.
The registering-for-the-wedding fiasco has passed its climax. I won’t say it’s done. I’m not so naïve. But I’m feeling significantly lighter and calmer and our relationship has stabilized and, dare I say, grown. We as bride-and-groom-to-be have certainly become wiser. In fact, today, as we were leaving HomeOutfitters on our third excursion out to work on registering, I saw a couple who had been at it for about five minutes. The guy looked a bit like a taller version of Mark, with kind eyes, a kettle in one hand and a flabbergasted look on his face. The girl was holding a scanner and a clipboard and pen and her brow was furrowed and she turned to me (she would have implored to anyone at that moment) and exclaimed, “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do! And we’re not even out of kitchenware.” The tremble in her voice (the I’m-on-the-brink-of-breaking tremble) was oh too familiar and I looked at her and smiled and said, “Don’t try to do it all at once, honey. It gets easier. I promise.”
And I turned on my heel (quite pleased with myself) and strolled away.
So I feel that now is a good time for me to share my new-found wisdom. I want to “give back” so to speak. So here goes.
HOW TO REGISTER FOR YOUR WEDDING:
First of all, start to toss the idea of registering into conversations with your fiancé well well WELL in advance of when you’ll need to have the deed done (before invitations for showers are sent out). That being said, if he doesn’t respond with enthusiasm, but agrees to go along, that’s half the battle. Take what you can get.
Secondly, try to avoid going:
a) after a recent argument
b) on a busy weekend
c) when he is sick
d) when he is wearing a cumbersome and warm leather jacket
e) when he is hung over
f) if he hasn’t had his coffee yet
This should enhance your registering experience.
When you get the scanner, the gift registry attendant will probably give it to him. But his arm might get tired very quickly, so don’t bring a big purse in case you need to carry the scanner and the clipboard etc.
Don’t be alarmed if you can’t agree on anything. I’ve learned that this is part of the process. In fact, planning a wedding is a sick-game invented by some higher being to test the couple to see if they have what it takes to “make it”. I think it’s probably a cross between Survivor and the Truman show.
You will discover some tastes you didn’t know you had (perhaps you suddenly love white). And he will too (he abhors anything white). If you try to do too much at once, you will make emotional purchases. You’ll start scanning things randomly in order to be done. Don’t worry. Nothing is irreversible. You can go on-line later or phone and the friendly, understanding attendant will erase items for you.
You’ll feel torn. You want nice things, but you will feel guilty asking friends to buy you nice things because they are costly. This feels unlike anything you’ve ever done. You’ll find a balance. Use the force.
And you and your fiancé will fight. Oh you will fight. You’ll fight with your fiancé before registering and during registering and perhaps even afterwards while discussing registering. But you will learn how to communicate and how to compromise and how to navigate a wonderful new dimension of your relationship.
And your fiancé may not want to take pictures of the day of registering. He might prefer to get a coffee and lie down on the display beds instead.
Don’t be disheartened. This first visit to the store is not in vain. Your fiancé will likely not have enjoyed himself, but he may suddenly see the potential power in the registry. He will likely start to warm to the idea and discuss things he’d like for next time you go register, making each visit to the store easier than the last.
And remember, that which does not kill you, makes you stronger.
Friday, March 09, 2007
There’s no such thing as a free lunch
Maybe not.
But last night, we got to experience the next best thing –free dinner.
Mark and I went for our official wedding dinner tasting.
James had prepared and set a formal place-setting at a table in the corner, so that we had a panoramic view out both windows of the snow-covered rolling hills of the golf course. It was, in fact, the very spot where, in 142 days we will be formally and symbolically and legally bound together for life. I had a glass of wine and Mark had a beer and we ate proscuitto-wrapped asparagus and hot spring rolls in sweet chilly dipping sauce. Rod (apparently our personal chef) made us the most incredible garlic mashed potatoes I’ve ever eaten and we had steak and fresh bread with real butter. We also ate salmon covered in a lemon-dill cream sauce and for dessert, even though we were both exploding at the seams, we ate a delicious lemon-blueberry tart.
It didn’t seem to matter that I was covered in calamine lotion from the neck up. Nor did it matter that the only napkins James could find were mustard yellow. It was such a special experience to be treated like royalty.
I can’t wait to do it for real!
Maybe not.
But last night, we got to experience the next best thing –free dinner.
Mark and I went for our official wedding dinner tasting.
James had prepared and set a formal place-setting at a table in the corner, so that we had a panoramic view out both windows of the snow-covered rolling hills of the golf course. It was, in fact, the very spot where, in 142 days we will be formally and symbolically and legally bound together for life. I had a glass of wine and Mark had a beer and we ate proscuitto-wrapped asparagus and hot spring rolls in sweet chilly dipping sauce. Rod (apparently our personal chef) made us the most incredible garlic mashed potatoes I’ve ever eaten and we had steak and fresh bread with real butter. We also ate salmon covered in a lemon-dill cream sauce and for dessert, even though we were both exploding at the seams, we ate a delicious lemon-blueberry tart.
It didn’t seem to matter that I was covered in calamine lotion from the neck up. Nor did it matter that the only napkins James could find were mustard yellow. It was such a special experience to be treated like royalty.
I can’t wait to do it for real!
On the Lamb
I’d say that it’s a good bet on any given day, that about a third of the kids in our classes would rather be somewhere else. Maybe that’s being too conservative. And the day before March Break, well, I’d say there isn’t a soul who wants to be engaged in formal learning. However, one little tyke in kindergarten took matters into his own hands today.
Those four words that no teacher wants to hear…., “We’ve got a runner!”
I’d say that it’s a good bet on any given day, that about a third of the kids in our classes would rather be somewhere else. Maybe that’s being too conservative. And the day before March Break, well, I’d say there isn’t a soul who wants to be engaged in formal learning. However, one little tyke in kindergarten took matters into his own hands today.
Those four words that no teacher wants to hear…., “We’ve got a runner!”
Thursday, March 08, 2007
A bit about Prednisone
So I woke up the other morning with a rash on my neck.
And it didn't go away with Reactine (antihistamines), and to make matters worse, this morning I woke up with a very swollen face and puffy eyes. I went to the doctor's for the second time in two days and he prescribed Prednisone.
I got home and, of course, I'm reading all the pharmaceutical information about prednisone.
Get this, some possible side effects include: itchy rash and swollen face.
So I woke up the other morning with a rash on my neck.
And it didn't go away with Reactine (antihistamines), and to make matters worse, this morning I woke up with a very swollen face and puffy eyes. I went to the doctor's for the second time in two days and he prescribed Prednisone.
I got home and, of course, I'm reading all the pharmaceutical information about prednisone.
Get this, some possible side effects include: itchy rash and swollen face.
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